


sour grapes

by kaiaced



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Nothing explicit, Romance, a lil swearing here and there, oikawa cannot express his feelings aha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiaced/pseuds/kaiaced
Summary: [college au!] Oikawa doesn't love Ushijima. Not one bit.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	sour grapes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peachmiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmiya/gifts).



Oikawa doesn't love Ushijima. 

Not one bit. 

At least that's what he tells himself in the middle of the freezing November night as he leans on the streetlamps with heavy breaths. His trembling fingers trail across the cold metal as he stares at the pavement with a blank expression, losing himself at the grains under his shoes. He inclines his weight against the pole, knowing that his legs would give up any time soon if he pulls away quickly. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, the chilly air almost suffocating his lungs from each intake of breath. 

He straightens his back, turning to face the city with his hand still resting against the pole. Without his eyeglasses, all he could see are the blurry bright lights with streaks melting through the sky. He squints his eyes, shooting his glance at the street signs to see where he ran off in the bustling metropolis. 

A shot of pain runs through his spine, making him clench his teeth and tug on the sleeves of his thin cotton shirt. 

He knew it was a bad idea to be with him in the first place. Oikawa is well aware of the consequences of his actions. But he didn't realize that it would be _this_ early on. 

His hand flies to the back of his neck, his body slightly flinching at the freezing contact. 

Great.

He's cold, exhausted, sore all over, and the night proved him that he's emotionally unavailable for anyone that shows any slight interest in him.

"Who cares about that?" He mutters to himself, slowly standing to his own two feet alone while he considers going back to his dorm. He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing, taking short strides through the sidewalk. Despite the late evening, strangers whizzed pass by him with judging stares since he clads in a plain white shirt paired with his university's jogging pants and his ratty old sneakers while they are all warm and toasty underneath their thousand-layer of coats and sweaters.

He shrugs off the ogling eyes and proceeds to trudge forward, squinted eyes darting to each street sign carefully. 

That is until the impending realization hits him.

"My phone!" He gasps, patting through the pockets of his jogging pants only to find them empty, tracing the outline of a pair of keys and his wallet over the fabric. "Fuck, I must've left it over at his place," he grunts, shaking his head in disbelief. 

He glances over his shoulder, and despite being three blocks away already from Ushijima's condominium, the towering building still looms from a distance.

Oikawa doesn't love Ushijima.

That's what he tells himself as he barges in through the glass doors of the high-end condominium. The guards and receptionist only sent him a small smile, already aware of his presence because of the countless times he goes to the building. 

He marches through the lobby and into the hallway across the elevators, pressing the arrow that points up. He taps his foot against the tiled floors, shifting his weight sporadically as he waits for the doors to open. 

Once they did, he squeezes himself in and smashes the number six, to where Ushijima stays. 

He doesn't love him. 

Not one bit.

After all, this is just an affair where they would seek out each other whenever they crave intimacy and sexual desires. They're not even friends, to begin with; they're merely rivals from opposing universities. 

With Ushijima leading the consecutive victors of the All-Japan Intercollegiate Volleyball Championship in Waseda University and Oikawa being the foundation of the underdogs, the University of Tokyo, he knows a relationship more than from the court is impossible.

Thus the possibility of that happening has already disintegrated in the depths of his mind.

He sighs to himself, crossing his arms upon seeing the reflection of himself on the elevator doors.

Bruises litter his neck with a few peeking out from the collar of his shirt, his shoelaces hurriedly tied, and lines frame his face. He looks absolute shit, but it doesn't matter anyway, all he wants is to grab his phone, and perhaps with his jacket and eyeglasses, and leave—forgetting that everything else that happened in the night ever existed.

The elevator doors ding and open upon reaching the sixth floor, and he threads through the hallways, up to where Ushijima is staying.

He raises his knuckles against the wooden door, ready to knock and take his things until a loud ring from the other room emits through the expanse. 

Oikawa freezes and soft footsteps pad through the other side, prompting him to retrieve his hand into his pockets. 

The ringing persists for another second until it abruptly stops, Oikawa's breathing catches in his throat.

_"Shittykawa! Where the fuck are you?! The dorms will close in just an hour, and you're not responding to my messages! Unless you're going to sleep in your damn fuck buddy's room, then at least tell me!"_

"Iwaizumi?"

_"... U-Ushiwaka?"_

"Oikawa left," Ushijima said over the other line, his gaze trailing to the tall glass windows of his condominium room, giving him a full view of the Tokyo cityscape. 

_"He left? Then why do you still have his phone?"_

"He seems like he was in a rush. He said he doesn't want to see me anymore."

_"Oh. Is that so...?"_

"Yes."

_"Then would you mind bringing his stuff over to the dorm? I think he'll get home in a couple of minutes. That dumbass won't last a day without his phone."_

"Sure."

Without any words further shared, Ushijima hangs up. He glances over at Oikawa's lock screen, which is a view of the University of Tokyo's building underneath a setting sky. He finds his lips almost ghosting into a smile if only his mind didn't replay the harsh words thrown at him after he pulls out of Oikawa.

Ushijima gently places the phone back to the counter, his hand resting on the back of his neck, cranking his head side to side. Of course, he's going to be sore after tons of rounds of steamy sex, but the way Oikawa thrashed underneath him when he's trying to stitch together the misunderstanding ached his body ten times more.

He releases a short breath, biting the inside of his cheek as he contemplates the series of events that will follow. 

He said it out of the blue, too caught up with the euphoria his body is sending him. With Ushijima's fingers intertwined with Oikawa's, despite his loud protests against the act while he's squirming underneath, Ushijima blurted out, "Stay with me," almost desperately and longingly, followed by breathless pants of "Please," including bruising kisses whenever Oikawa would flatly reject him.

Now, Ushijima is alone in his condominium room. Oikawa would still snuggle in his arms if he didn't say those words.

He stretches his arms in the air, turning his heel to take a hot shower to relax his muscles. But the shadows from the hallway across his door causes him to stop in his tracks.

With slightly parted lips, he hurriedly paces through the room, his heart thumping wildly against his chest—the image of Oikawa waiting for him on the hallway flashing through his mind.

But as he swings open the door, he's met with nothing. 

And he feels his heart sink to his stomach when Ushijima realizes that he fucked it up.

Oikawa doesn't care for Ushijima.

The very idea banes his existence.

At least that's what he reminds himself as he sits alone in the convenience store benches just across Ushijima's condominium with a cup of hot coffee warming his hands.

He takes a sip of the sugary drink, the liquid slithering down his throat to wake up his senses. 

Oikawa doesn't care for Ushijima.

So why is he marching up to his condominium again?

He doesn't know. 

But with the spare keys that Ushijima gave him and the strength of the sugary coffee, he knows he has to retrieve his things—and dignity—back.

As Oikawa enters the left elevator with clenched fists, Ushijima exits the right one with a paper bag in hand and a calm demeanor.

And once Oikawa barges in Ushijima's condominium room on the 6th floor, he's met with an eerie silence and a tidy interior. 

Now what?

Oikawa doesn't have the time to lounge around. He's in his third year of college now. Soon enough, he will be on the stage receiving his degree, and hopefully, along with a medal to commemorate his service to the university's volleyball team. 

Just another year of fucking around before he gets hit by the massive train of reality.

He leans his back against the metal pole of the train, losing himself in the passing buildings with his lips slightly parted and his hands shoved on the pockets of his jogging pants. After realizing that he will not benefit from anything at Ushijima's condominium since he's already probably taken his stuff to his dorm, Oikawa opted to go back. If Ushijima hasn't returned his phone yet, Oikawa could always use his laptop instead. Anything would benefit him as long as Ushijima doesn't come along and barricade his plans.

He's running out of time to prove himself. He doesn't need Ushijima to tell him that he's emotionally invested in him. He doesn't give a shit about that.

At least that's what he tells himself.

Oikawa takes long strides through the university, itching to plop in the comforts of his bed and wrap himself with the warm toasty duvet. He manages to enter the campus just before the security closes up for the night, and he almost gets stuck outside without his identification card if it weren't for the fact that the guard is already familiar with his face.

He threads his fingers through his brown locks, already shivering dead from the cold of the winter. If he gets sick the following day, he'll blame Ushijima and would probably force him to buy him some medicine so he wouldn't have to use the allowance that the university gave him.

Well, whatever. 

If Ushijima is willing to spend a few bills on his sick fuck buddy, he would gladly accept it. 

_ex_ -fuck buddy.

Oikawa admires the empty campus with the soft glow of the streetlamps lighting the way to the residence hall, while at the same time careful not to slip on the wet sidewalk. 

He swallows a nervous breath, hoping that Iwaizumi wouldn't give him an earful once he enters their shared dorm room. He's beyond exhausted, his back is still aching, and his head is throbbing with pain. 

Any unnecessary noise will bring him to his knees.

"Oikawa."

Fuck.

He is _not_ going to get on his knees for _that._

Oikawa stops in his tracks, already familiar with the gravelly voice, his eyes refusing to meet his.

"I brought your stuff back to your dorm," Ushijima continues when he's met with silence.

"Thanks, you didn't have to, though," the brunet replies, taking a step to his right and trudging forward to the residence hall.

He brushes past Ushijima, his fingers toying with the loose threads from the inside of his pockets. He prays to the sky that Ushijima doesn't say another word at him. He doesn't want to deal with this tonight, not when they're both littered with hickeys and freezing in the winter.

"I didn't mean to say that."

Fuck.

"Okay," Oikawa blankly replies, continuing with his pace.

Ushijima scowls at his lack of response even after making the statement up, "No, wait."

The brunet briefly pauses in his steps.

"I lied. I meant what I said."

"Okay."

A heavy feeling settles in Ushijima's chest, and he could feel his breathing turn erratic with every second that Oikawa dismisses his feelings. 

"Is that all? I want to rest already, Ushiwaka," Oikawa continues, glancing at him over his shoulder.

Ushijima hates that.

He hates hearing that dumb nickname fall from Oikawa's lips—especially when he calls him by his first name, even though the first name basis is to mock him.

"You can always rest at my condo. I have plenty of space there," Ushijima retorts.

Oikawa scoffs at his offer, "I'm already here, and you want me to go back there? Oi! I already gave you what you asked for, right? You just wanted to fuck, and we did, so end of the deal."

Ushijima frowns at his choice of words. Never did Ushijima think that what they were doing was just to relieve their sexual tension. Looking back on the first time they did it, where Waseda University and the University of Tokyo just finished a practice match against each other, Ushijima knew that approaching him right after already has his hopes written all over his words. 

"Now, do you have anything else left to say? It's so fucking cold out here, so hurry up and leave," Oikawa says, his tone firmer and sharper than his usual teasing or retorts.

"Can't you stay for the night?" Ushijima asks again.

Oikawa's jaw clenches and his fists balled to his sides as he turns his heel to face him, "I don't love you, can't you just leave me the fuck alone?!"

Love?

"Seriously, who would want to be with you? You're insufferable, and you're a pain to deal with, I just wanted a quick relief while you're asking for so much more!"

Who said anything about love?

"Can't you take a fucking hint?!"

Since when did he start acting aggressively against Ushijima with his hands tightly curled in his collar and his breath fanning his face?

Oikawa realizes his actions a second later when he sees the flash of confusion over Ushijima's features. 

Ushijima presses his hands over Oikawa's chest in an attempt to calm him down. But Oikawa releases his grip from the collar of his shirt, and he steps away.

He screws his eyes shut, calming the hammering of his heart. "Look," he sighs, his trembling fingers rubbing on his temple, "You're an athlete, plenty of girls flock over you for sure. Just find someone to replace me, it's not that hard. You deserve to be in a happy relationship with a female. Be a normal college kid, for once. Go to parties, get wild. Don't involve yourself with me anymore. Save yourself from all the trouble. I wouldn't want to see the ace of Waseda University get all broken because of a dumb boy from a rival campus." 

Oikawa turns his heel once more, his hand waving in the air as he walks away. "You won't get anything from me, Ushiwaka."

Oikawa doesn't love Ushijima.

Not one bit.

As a matter of fact, he despises him.

But when he climbs midway up the stairs to his dorm room, his legs collapse, and he slumps on the cold metal railing. He steadies his breathing as he inclines his weight against the steps, the cold November night kissing his skin. 

Oikawa knows he's through with all the nights that he spends with Ushijima, fucking. He's had enough of the train rides from his university to Ushijima's condominium. And he's definitely had enough of seeing Ushijima's expression contorted with pleasure and weakness whenever their souls are linked together.

At least that's what he tells himself.

Because even if he chants to himself that he will not miss Ushijima Wakatoshi, something in his tongue laces his words with the taste of his regret.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by Sour Grapes by John The Ghost. Just a really quick fic for the nite hehe.  
> Let's talk on twitter! @kaiaced


End file.
